That Summer
by ESmith7
Summary: Emily is home from Yale for the summer and, to her dismay, has been assigned a security agent from her Mother's staff to keep an eye on her.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I always believed that when Hotch worked security for Emily's Mother something happened between them. This is my idea of what might have happened that summer. Please leave me some reviews. This will be my longest story so far and I would really appreciate all the feedback I can get!**

That Summer

The moment that she had boarded the plane bound for home, Emily Prentiss knew she was going to have yet another terrible summer. Although the apartment she lived in throughout the year was still paid for during the summer months, her Mother had insisted two years in a row she be home once her examinations were over. And nobody denied the Ambassador her requests.

Now, it was late in the afternoon and although she was curled up in one of the many rooms in the house with her legs thrown over the arms of a chair she knew the peace wouldn't last. Her nose was buried in _Breakfast of Champions_ which, although it was not her favourite, came pretty close to _Slaughterhouse Five_. It was not, unfortunately, good enough to distract her from the sound of the door opening and the instant twitch of dread that her Mother had found her.

At first she didn't look up, hoping it was just a maid. But when the person in the doorway didn't announce themselves, she glanced over her shoulder.

A man in a black suit and tie stood in the doorway. He was young, probably not much older than herself, with her Mother's crest pinned to his jacket and an earpiece clinging to the side of his head.

"Did you need something?" She snapped, not unlike her around her Mother's nosy security.

"No, Miss Prentiss. I didn't realize you were already home from school. Welcome home, Miss Prentiss." The man replied coolly before turning and leaving the room. Emily reclined back into the chair, frowning. It was not unlike the staff to speak to be short with her, but it was unusual that they were that frigid. She didn't think twice about it.

A while later she was interrupted again by Alexander, the head of security. Alexander was without a doubt her favourite on the staff. He had been with them since childhood and remained a valued friend and father figure.

"The Ambassador is looking for you, Emily." Alexander told her stiffly.

"Did she say what for?" She asked and the greying man just cocked an eyebrow at her. Emily laughed. "Of course not. Well, duty calls I suppose."

"When does duty not call for your Mother?" He replied, walking with her down the hall to her mother's study. Inside the room, her Mother was seated at the desk talking in rapid Arabic while five of the security detail stood around, straight as arrows. She did not recognize any of them.

"Emily, sit." She barked, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. Rolling her eyes in Alexander's direction she did as she was told and waited until finally the Ambassador hung up the phone.

"Young lady I understand how little interest you have in doing anything that resembles work over the summer," Her Mother began, critically, "But while you're here you will be expected to attend every event we host. Is that understood?"

Emily winced, remembering the previous night when she had slipped away from the dinner party her mother was hosting. Before dinner had even been served.

"You are my daughter and it is unbelievable humiliating to have to create some false account of where you've disappeared off to. I swear to you, Emily, if you do not behave as the perfect young woman for the rest of your stay here, you will not be returning to Yale in the fall."

"Yes, Mother." She replied icily.

"Do not try me here, Emily. You know as well as I do that one phone call to that school and you are finished."

"Yes Mother."

"That being said, I've assigned Mr. Hotchner to be your security throughout the summer." She gestured to one of the suits. A flicker of surprise crossed her face when she realized it was the man earlier, from the library. He stared at her, hard and even. "Mr. Hotchner will ensure that you are at every function and that you do not spend your summer… frolicking the way you did when we were in Europe. Am I clear?"

"Yes Mother." Emily snapped.

"Watch your tone, young lady. I will also not have you holed up in that library every day." The Ambassador warned, her stare piercing. "There are better things you could spend your time doing than reading those fantasies.

"Yes Mother. May I go now?" She asked, barely hiding the rage that was boiling over into her voice.

"You may go prepare for supper. Our guests will be here at six."

"Thank you, Mother." Emily replied shortly, standing to leave.

"Mr. Hotchner will be at your door at six o'clock to escort you downstairs." Her Mother called after her. Emily didn't stop herself from slamming the door shut behind her. It was going to be a long freaking summer.

At exactly six o'clock, Emily was not surprised to hear the sharp rap at her door. Her initial instinct was to ignore it but if she was expected to spend the whole summer with this man, she was already off on a bad start.

"Come in," She called while she touched up her mascara.

"Miss Prentiss," Hotchner said stiffly. When he entered she glanced over at him. He was in the same suit and tie from early but now that she was seeing him up close he was much younger than she had initially suspected. They were practically the same age.

"Emily." She said.

"Excuse me?"

"You can call me Emily." She asserted.

"I don't think the Ambassador would find that quite appropriate." He replied stiffly.

"I don't believe the Ambassador is here at the moment. Emily, please." She insisted, hiking up her dress and slipping black heels. "I'm sorry if we got off to a bad start earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you." She explained, pinning back her hair.

"It's completely alright, Miss. Prentiss." He told her, just as coolly.

"Do you always talk to people this way?"

"Yes."

"You're sure it's not just with me?"

"Of course not, Miss. Prentiss." He assured her, just as toneless. She sighed and decided perhaps the night would go quicker in silence.

It didn't. Emily was seated next to the son of the Spanish Ambassador, who was only a year older than her. Unfortunately somewhere in his development he took on the persona of a Spanish stallion, constantly demanding attention and throwing back his long black hair in a display of vanity.

At one point the man was telling her about his villa just outside Madrid as he did so threw his hair back over his shoulder and gave her a flawless, pearl white smile. Emily almost laughed, the movement was so ridiculous and when she met Hotchner's eye across the dining room she even saw a bit of a smirk.

Emily excused herself before dessert to the ladies room and could feel her Mother's eyes on her. Instantly, Hotchner followed behind her at a respectable distance. When she was outside the room and far enough from servant ears she turned on him.

"I'm just going to the bathroom. Can't I have a minute to myself?" She snapped.

"Miss. Prentiss, I'm just doing what your Mother is paying me to do. I won't be following you into the ladies room if that's what you're worried about." He replied, his tone just as cold and bland as before.

"Have I done something to make you angry?" Emily demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. The dress she was wear slipped lower on her cleavage and for a moment she saw his eyes flicker there.

"Excuse me?" He demanded, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Why are you treating me like some child you have to follow around and pick up after? I understand we got off to the wrong foot and I already apologized for snapping at you but I'm not completely sure of why you're being such an asshole right now."

"I'm just doing my job, Miss Prentiss." He replied frostily.

"Is it your job to be an asshole?" She pushed.

"Miss Prentiss, if you wouldn't mind using the ladies room so we can get back to dinner before you get us both into trouble." Hotchner snapped, gesturing towards the bathroom door.

"I do mind. What's your problem with me, Hotchner? Have I done something to mortally offend you already?"

"Miss. Prentiss–"

"It's Emily and I have no intention of going back to dinner until you tell me what the hell your problem is?" Emily leaned up against the bathroom door, fuming.

"When I was assigned to your Mother's detail I did not picture myself babysitting her spoil brat of a daughter all summer. I want to be here just as little as you want me around so please, use the goddamn bathroom and go back to the dinner." Hotchner snapped at her.

"I am not spoiled! You don't even know me!" She cried, throwing up her hands. "You think I want to be here? Are you under the impression I come home and live off Mommy all summer because I'm too lazy to work for myself? You heard her this morning. If she calls Yale I'm finished there. Sure, my SATs were high enough to get into any school in the country but if the Ambassador calls and demands her daughter be removed from the program the school does not think twice. I am here under duress, Agent Hotchner, and not for lack of trying to get away. I work just as hard as you, or anyone else."

Hotchner sighed and Emily visibly saw him give in.

"I'm sorry. You're right. I don't know you and I'm frustrated. Forgive me. Let's just go back to the dinner." He suggested, his tone softer.

"Thank you." She murmured, finally walking into the bathroom.

When she returned he was still standing there, patiently waiting for her. He was murmuring to someone over the mouthpiece but stopped instantly and stood just the slightest bit straighter.

"Do we have to go back?" She sighed, glancing towards the dining room abuzz with chatter. Hotchner sighed along with her, even twitching a smile.

"We do."

"How about I watch the room and you sit next to the Spanish stallion?" Emily suggested, wandering down the hallway.

"The what?" Hotchner scoffed.

"You know, the Spanish Ambassador's son. He acts like a vain horse."

"He really does," Hotchner agreed, chuckling softly.

Emily stopped him at the doorway with a hand on his arm. "I just realized I don't even know your name. If you're going to be spending the entire summer with me you could at least tell me your name. I don't particularly like the idea of calling you 'Mr. Hotchner' all summer."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Hotchner deadpanned. Was he teasing her?

"Please?"

"Hotchner is fine." He insisted.

"Guess it'll have to be a nickname then." Emily teased. "What about Stiff?" She suggested. He frowned at her. "Grumpy?" A deeper frown. "Oh! I know! Hotch?"

"I guess that would be fine," He grumbled, leading her back into the dining hall. The hand he placed on her back, although it was just to give her a nudge in the right direction, send a wave of heat through her body. Emily flushed and stepped away.

"Guess I better get back to my stallion. See you later, Hotch." Emily told him perkily, returning to her seat beside the Spanish Ambassador's son. For the rest of the night she could feel his eyes on her. Not in a creepy or obvious way, but more in a please-don't-see-me-watching-you sort of way that made the butterflies in her stomach take flight.

By the time dinner was over Hotch had disappeared on some errand for her Mother and she wandered off to her room alone. As she fell asleep that night she thought maybe this summer wouldn't be so bad. Especially not if she was going to spend many more evenings, potentially alone, with Agent Hotch.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I was originally planning to write this next chapter including both the following scene as well as their date. But I haven't gotten their date just quite right yet and I was too anxious to post this next chapter for you guys! Thank you all for the fabulous reviews so far. Your reviews make me want to write more and more, and obviously, quicker! Please keep them coming!**

Chapter Two

It was a few days later before Emily saw Hotch again. The Prentiss household had been relatively quiet with her Mother away on some diplomatic endeavor. It had left Emily's time open for plenty of reading but even that was getting dull.

When the weather was nice on Saturday afternoon, Emily decided to spend it by the poolside. Pulling on an emerald green bikini and a white sunhat she took her book out with her and reclined into one of the many loungers.

It wasn't long before she had lost herself in the sun and the story.

"Ahem,"

Emily opened her eyes and squinted up at the dark shadow looming over her."What time is it?" She asked Hotch while she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

"Just after two," He told her, stern as always. Emily looked up at him in surprise. She must have been asleep longer than she had thought. And was she ever hot. The pool was tempting her with its refreshingly blue water. It would feel amazing on her overheating skin.

Skin that was getting hotter by the moment with Hotch around. How could he stand there in his suit and tie in this weather? He had been the only thing she could think of since the dinner party. There was just something about him that drew her in and held tight. She couldn't be the only one feeling it, could she?

"I'm going for a swim," Emily announced, folding the book in her lap and tossing the hat onto the end of the chair.

"I'll be inside if you need me." Hotch replied.

"You don't want to join me?" She asked, mischievously. With a heartbreaking smile she gestured invitingly towards the pool. Confliction fluttered across his sharp features.

"It wouldn't be appropriate." He finally replied stiffly.

"Come on, Hotch. For me? No one else is here right? Just you and me? I won't say anything if you won't." She urged, walking up to him, hips swinging.

"That's exactly my point. No one else is here. Right now anyways. I can't really explain myself if I'm swimming with my boss's half-naked daughter now can I?" He demanded, folding his arms over his chest. Always so professional.

"Well maybe you could just stay and keep me company then?" She suggested.

"Is this the part where you ask me to rub sunscreen on you?" Hotch asked, actually teasing her.

"No. Well unless you want to, that is." Emily offered.

"I can do that," He murmured quietly. The look he was giving her sent a jolt of arousal straight to her belly and flushed onto her cheeks. She knew she wasn't imagining it. The attraction between them was obvious. He was just the only one trying to contain it.

"Here," She said, nervously handing him a bottle of sunscreen. In all honesty she didn't need the lotion. All the summers she'd spent in Europe and the Middle East had paid off and she rarely burned anymore. But she would indulge him. And herself.

Hotch cleared his throat again and she could feel his eyes on her back as she pulled her hair over one shoulder. Then his hands were on her and it was the most thrilling experience she had ever had. His fingers were rough and calloused but they skimmed over her skin like satin, massaging the cream deep into her skin. With an expert touch he rubbed down her back and slipped a hand under the tie of her bikini to spread it evenly.

"Thanks," She said cheerfully, stepping away to resist the urge to jump his bones. "You don't really have to stay out here if you'd rather go in."

"I'll stay out with you." He protested, dragging her lounger closer to the pool and sitting down in the shade. She smiled to herself at what felt like a small victory. Hotch was staying of his own accord now.

With each step towards the deep end of the pool she could feel his eyes on her, skimming down her back, travelling over her backside and down her legs. It felt so deliciously naughty and forbidden.

Diving into the pool, Emily swam to the edge where he was sitting and leaned on her arms at the end.

"Come in, Hotch." She insisted, only half joking.

"I can't Emily." He protested, resting his arms across his knees as he looked down at her.

"I'll splash you and you'll be wet either way so you might as well just come in." She explained seriously.

Hotch frowned at her. "You wouldn't. And even so I don't have a swimsuit."

"You can just strip down and come in with boxers on. It's the same as a swimsuit. Unless you're a briefs kind of guy, then it could be kind of awkward in here. Are you, Hotch?" She asked.

"Am I what?"

"A tighty-whitey guy?" Emily teased, tapping a finger against her lip. "I just can't tell."

Hotch cocked an eyebrow at her. "Are we really having this conversation?"

"What," She started, pushing off from the wall and treading water. "You got to rub up my back and I can't ask you about your underwear choices? Why do you get to have all the fun?"

He scoffed."You know, maybe I will go back into the house. I think you're getting the wrong idea."

"The only ideas I have are the one's you've given me." She shot back. Hotch got up out of the pool chair and stood by the edge for a moment, watching her swim. "If you're going in, at least help me out?" She asked, offering up a hand to him.

"No." He replied firmly.

"Why not?" She pouted.

"Do you think I was born yesterday? I take your hand and you pull me into the water."

"You're not as dumb as you look." She returned. He smiled at her then, giving her a row of white teeth and two perfect dimples. It melted her heart. "Could you at least grab me a towel?"

"Of course." Hotch wandered over to the towel stand and left it on the side of the lounger. With a sigh she pushed out of the water and sat on the poolside, wringing out her hair. The air had cooled and left goose bumps on her skin.

Emily peeled the towel off the chair and dried her hair with it, painfully aware that her nipples were hard through her bathing suit and demanding Hotch's attention. And they were getting it. Even though the security agent was desperately attempting to look away, or at her face or anywhere other than her chest his gaze kept returning to the little pebble-hard circles poking through the green fabric.

"My eyes are up here," She prompted, wrapping the towel around her as she cocked any eyebrow at him.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're suggesting." Hotch said seriously, observing her evenly and without expression. Emily just smirked at him and walked past him to the patio.

"So what are we going to do tonight?" She asked, stopping in the doorway.

Glancing down at his watch he said, "I have the night off."

"Oh."

"Maybe we could get something to eat tonight." He suggested.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"No. That would be completely inappropriate. But because it doesn't seem like you have a lot of friends here, and your mother is out of town, I thought you'd rather eat with me than eat alone. It's charity, really."

"How thoughtful of you," Emily teased.

"I'm off in an hour but I'll be back at six to pick you up?" He suggested, following her into the house.

"I'd love that." Barely containing her excitement, she left him standing in the back foyer and raced upstairs. Regardless of if he was going to admit it or not, her straight-laced security guard had asked her out on a date. Maybe it was a good thing they had gotten off on a bad foot, because they were certainly headed in a good direction now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I think this has been my favourite chapter to write so far! I have great plans for this story, so stick with me guys. And please don't forget to leave me a review. All your awesome feedback so far has been amazing so far!**

Chapter Three

A few hours later Emily was pacing back and forth in her room, frustrated at how much of a shy, insecure girl that Hotch had turned her into. Nothing seemed right for this non-date and finally she just sighed and threw something on. She wasn't this type of girl who cared what she wore or what other people thought of her. It had never mattered to her before and she certainly wasn't going to start letting it matter to her now. Besides, her security agent wasn't going to be stuck in yet another suit and tie. The safest bet seemed to be jeans.

When he showed up at her door shortly after, she was pleasantly surprised to find him in a pair of faded blue jeans and grey long-sleeve shirt. The shirt clung in all the right places and she knew his butt probably looked fabulous in those pants. Instantly the butterflies started again in her stomach.

"Hey," She murmured, leaning on the door.

"Hello," He said back, as monotone and expressionless as always.

"Where are we going?"

"I figured you could decide. I'm not picky." Hotch offered. Emily closed the door behind her and the pair walked down the front walk to the car. He was close enough to make her tremble with excitement.

"I was thinking pasta." She suggested.

"Okay."

The car ride was awkward and for the most part silent. The dynamic was so different now that they were alone. He wasn't security and she wasn't the boss's daughter. She was just Emily and he was just Hotch and they were together. It wasn't often that she didn't have something to say, but Hotch did appear to have that affect on her. When they were finally in the restaurant she relaxed when he offered her a menu and struck up conversation.

"What are you going to have?" He asked, glancing over the list quickly before setting the menu back on the table.

"I think the seafood pasta." Emily replied slowly, frowning as she tried to make up her mind. "Or maybe the one with the spinach and chicken. Oh, I can't decide. What are you having?"

"The special." He told her.

"What was the special again?"

"I'm not sure, I didn't ask. I can't make up my mind either," He admitted, smirking at her. "Why don't you have the special and maybe it'll be good. Or it will be awful and I'll take you something for dessert after."

"I love dessert!" She exclaimed, grinning at him.

When the waiter arrived they both ordered the special and Hotch picked out a bottle of wine for them to share. She was mildly surprised at his choice, being somewhat of a wine connoisseur herself. Something had suggested to her that he was more of a beer man, but she should have known better.

"How was the rest of your day," Hotch asked.

"It was uneventful really. Alexander came home earlier than I had expected and told me Mother will be home in a few days. I'm not completely sure why she would send him home to be honest. He's always been the one she trusted most." Emily mused.

"Maybe she doesn't think one agent is enough to handle her daughter," Hotch suggested, swishing the wine around in his glass before taking a long drink.

"Excuse me? I would think if anyone's capable of _handling_ me it would be you," The connotation in her voice was obvious but Hotch made no notice of acknowledging it.

"You know, I really don't feel like talking about work anymore." He replied.

"Then tell me about yourself. I feel like I barely know you."

"That's because you do barely know me," Hotch smiled. "What do you want to know?"

"Oh, I don't know. Tell me about why you're in security. Where did you go to school? What's the ultimate dream?" Emily asked.

"The ultimate dream? Working in the FBI. I haven't quite decided where yet but I know that national crime prevention is something I've always wanted to work in. Maybe terrorism or counterintelligence.

"Right now I'm working security now because it's the best option I have. And when the US Ambassador specifically requests you onto her detail you don't say no. It's interesting for now though. Not to mention your Mother will be a good contact to have in the future." He admitted.

"So you're just here to network before you go on to bigger and better things?" Emily asked, not surprised.

"I guess you could say that. What are you going to school for?"

"Criminology. I'm hoping to go into International crime prevention eventually. Growing up around the world I can't imagine not travelling constantly. And the languages will come in handy I'm sure."

"Languages?" Hotch asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I speak six languages." Emily explained, sipping from her wine. "They didn't tell you that when they were giving you your Emily Prentiss 101 lesson?"

Hotch looked impressed. "No, that never came up. Six? That's incredible. Which ones?"

"English, obviously. We were also in the Middle East for a few years and Arabic is probably my second best. Then I also speak Italian, Spanish, French and Russia although it's been a long time and I'm sure I'm rusty." Emily explained, flattered by how surprised Hotch was.

"I'm jealous," He replied, nodding in thanks to the waiter who had come to deliver their supper. "I speak English. Boring, plain old English."

"Maybe I can teach you some later." She suggested, smiling.

"Maybe you can."

Their supper was so delicious that Emily found little time to talk between bites. The special had turned out to be a cheese tortellini with a mushroom and pea white cream sauce. She thought it was absolutely fabulous, but it didn't escape her notice that Hotch only picked at his food. When she had finished he politely pushed his plate aside, only finishing half of it.

"I feel fat." She remarked, "I just ate that entire bowl and you look as if you barely touched it," She laughed, shaking her head.

"You are anything but fat." Hotch assured her. "You're gorgeous."

"Thanks," She flushed, awkwardly looking away from his piercing gaze. Sometimes it felt like he was staring right through her.

"So, uh, are you ever going to tell me your actual name?" Emily asked, changing the subject. Hotch laughed.

"It's Aaron," Hotch replied.

"Aaron. I like it." She said, trying his name out on her lips. "Aaron." He shot her a bemused look. The waiter returned and he signed for the cheque.

"Did you want to go somewhere for dessert?" He suggested, standing to leave.

"I don't know I'm pretty full…"

"Come on, Em, dessert is the best part!" He exclaimed, pulling her up out of her seat. Inside she was doing backflips. The way he touched her so freely, and even calling her Em, she was intoxicated with him. With Aaron.

Hotch didn't bother with the car, instead the pair just walked down the sidewalk to the ice cream shop down the street. "It's the best ice cream I've had," He promised her.

"Well let's go then!" She exclaimed, taking his hand and hauling him down the street. He laughed, deep and carefree. The sound was a rich, like dark chocolate, and Emily didn't think she'd ever get tired of hearing it.

When they reached the shop he didn't let go of her hand, slipping his fingers into hers and pulling her closer while they waited. Fighting the urge to rest her head on his shoulder, she ordered her ice cream and they waited patiently. The signals he was sending her were all over the map, but she wouldn't complain.

"Do you want to walk back?" Hotch asked. It was a beautiful, mild evening and she agreed, wandering back down the street to where they had left their vehicle.

"It's so beautiful out," She mused, sneaking her hand back into his. Hotch didn't move away, loosely holding her small hand in his while he licked at his ice cream cone.

The air was humid and cool, raising gooseflesh on her arm. It was late enough now that the stars began to peek through the clouds and the streetlights had come on. This was almost like walking through a romantic novel, Emily mused to herself.

"It is," He agreed.  
"I enjoyed our date," Emily told him.

"It isn't a date."

"Are you sure? There are lots of perks to calling it an official date," She teased, tugging at her hand. Hotch refused to let go, instead pulling her closer.

"Such as?"

"Well there's hand holding," She squeezed his fingers, "And there's ice cream sharing," She offered up her ice cream which he gratefully sampled, "And there's kissing."

"Is there?" Hotch asked. It was torture, the way he was toying with her.

"But I guess this isn't a date," She sighed, "It's just you, taking pity on the poor lonely girl. I really should just be grateful to even have one friend in this lonely world."

Hotch laughed, "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

They had arrived at the car and Hotch was fishing for his keys. "I know," She replied as the car clicked open.

"So you're sure this isn't a date?" She asked.

"No,"

"Because it would be a very good time to kiss me."

"It's not a date,"

"Okay," She pouted, reaching for the door, "If you're sure."

"Damnit," He muttered, "Why are you so frustrating?" Hotch stepped towards her and glanced down at her mouth. A breath caught in her throat, her hand still on the door when he leaned in and pushed it shut behind her. Just an inch away, his mouth hovered over hers. The deliciously tempting moment of suspense before his lips pressed down on hers drove her wild.

Then, finally, her rigid and serious security agent bent his head and kissed her.

His mouth was just as she had imagined it would be. Soft and sweet but demanding on hers. One of his hands curled around the side of her face, drawing her closer. Running a hand up his arm she sighed into his mouth, pressing her body up against his.

Then the kiss turned rough and Hotch pushed her back against the car, gripping her hip. Emily gasped and instantly responded, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. Their lips met again and again, tongues dancing until she could barely breathe with wanting him.

Without warning, Hotch pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, panting.

"Not a date," He murmured, kissing her lips gently again. Then he pulled away, opened her door and closed it behind her. Emily sat there, beaming and dumbfounded. When he got into the car next to her she leaned over the console and surprised him with a soft, sweet kiss.

"You're right. Not a date at all."

Hotch's face dimpled into a smile as he reached over and took one of her hands. It was the best non-date she could have imagined.


End file.
